Ruth Langan Highlanders Bundle

by Ruth Langan

  Inside a cheery fire chased away the gloom of the storm. A candle burned on a table in the corner of the room where two men sat with heads bent close in quiet conversation. A young tavern wench stood behind one of the men, her hand draped across his shoulder in an intimate gesture.

  As their eyes became accustomed to the light, Colin and Megan saw the three heads jerk upward and turn toward the door. It was then that they both realized one of the men was Kieran. The one upon whose shoulder the girl’s arm rested.

  Kieran shot his brother an angry scowl. “Why have you come here?”

  “We…” Colin swallowed, wondering how much to reveal to these strangers. “We had agreed that if we—needed to escape the storm, we should come for you. Kieran, we must leave immediately.”

  Kieran’s eyes narrowed. “You can speak freely. I have already told these good people the truth. They know that we are emissaries from the Queen, who has instructed us to pay a fortune to the one who assists us in her quest.”

  Colin felt his cheeks flame. It was obvious that Kieran had spun a story in order to procure a boat. But it was not in Colin’s nature to lie. In fact, it went against everything he believed in. He felt himself stammering as his cheeks grew hotter. “The Queen…the fortune…”

  Quickly assessing the situation, Megan cut in quickly. “We must leave now. Else all will be lost.”

  Kieran took in the drenched lass, whose soaked men’s clothing and dripping hair made her look more like a homeless waif than a woman of noble birth. He saw the way she studied the tavern wench and wished there was something he could do to explain. But there was no time. She would have to go along with the charade.

  “Captain MacLachlan,” Kieran said smoothly. “My brother, Colin, and my sister, Megan.”

  Sister? Megan’s mouth dropped open in surprise. Now what game was Kieran playing?

  “This is Captain MacLachlan,” Kieran continued. “He has agreed to take us across the North Channel to Ireland, on our secret mission for the Queen.” He turned to the wench whose arm rested possessively on his shoulder. “And this is the captain’s lovely daughter, Nola.”

  The wench dismissed Megan and Colin with barely a glance and turned to Kieran. Her voice dripped honey. “It was most kind of you to agree to share the Queen’s treasure with us. But you cannot ask my father to risk his life on such a night. I urge you to heed his advice and stay the night. On the morrow the storm will have passed. You will be refreshed and ready for the perils of a channel crossing. Besides—” she moved her hand through the hair at Kieran’s nape, her fingers soft and seductive “—it would be our honor to have you stay in our humble inn.”

  Megan studied the woman in the scarlet gown, whose small waist and ample bosom were perfectly displayed. Then she glanced at her own coarse tunic and breeches, which dripped water on the polished wood floor. She felt a rush of anger, and some other, deeper feeling she could not identify. “Mayhap you should do as the lady suggests and…refresh yourself in this cozy inn, brother, while Colin and I seek shelter from the storm under the rock where you left us.”

  Colin nearly burst into laughter at the dark scowl that crossed Kieran’s face. Leave it to the lass to show her claws.

  Quickly recovering his composure, Kieran turned to the captain and his daughter. “The lass has a tongue like a viper, but I promised our mother I would never forsake her. Of course,” he added without looking at Megan, “I fear that one day she will push me too far and I will do something I will later regret. For her own good, of course.”

  “The child is fortunate to have a brother as brave and noble as you,” Nola said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I am certain we can make room for them on the floor near the fireplace. You will be snug and warm there, child.”

  “Child! How dare—”

  Before Megan could say more, Colin cut her off. “There is no time left, Kieran. We must go at once.”

  “Aye.” Kieran turned to the captain. “I fear we cannot wait until the storm passes. If you cannot take us across the channel now, we will be forced to seek another boat.”

  Captain MacLachlan glanced at his daughter, then drank down a tumbler of whiskey. He knew that Nola was taken with the charm and rugged good looks of this stranger. Her husband had died in a shipwreck over two years ago, and there were few men on this island who were interested in a widow with two small bairns. He studied the man who sat across from him. A night with a lusty lass like Nola could convince the stranger to stay. On the other hand there was the gold. Captain MacLachlan did not want to lose his chance at the Queen’s fortune. If, as the stranger had implied, there were many coins, his daughter would be well taken care of. And she could buy the attentions of a few dozen island lads who could assuage her loneliness.

  The captain filled his glass and emptied the contents in two swallows.

  His daughter chewed her lip and prayed he would refuse to set sail tonight. It had been a long time since a stranger as handsome as this one had arrived upon their shores. She had no doubt that she could please him, if only her father would insist upon waiting out the storm. But though she was headstrong, she would never defy her father. Whatever decision he made, she would have to abide by it.

  Colin and Megan fought to keep their nerves at bay. At any moment their pursuers could burst through the doors and all would be lost.

  Megan glanced at Kieran and cursed the fact that he seemed not at all concerned. Not once did he glance her way.

  “I do not relish facing the angry seas this night,” the captain said slowly. “But the Queen’s fortune is a worthy goal. One I cannot resist.”

  “How soon can we leave?” Kieran asked.

  “As soon as you and the lad and lass have refreshed yourselves.”

  Kieran turned a charming smile upon the captain’s daughter. Lifting her hand to his lips he murmured, “I regret that there is not even time for refreshments. But perhaps, if you would prepare some food for our journey, I can tell the Queen about your kindness. Perhaps I can even return one day and thank you properly myself.”

  Nola’s face was aglow as she said with a seductive smile, “I shall hold you to that, my lord.”

  As she walked away, her father called, “Prepare food and ale. And some sheepskins, girl. ’Tis a foul night to be on the water.”

  “Aye, Father.”

  A short time later the captain led the way toward a dark, hulking shadow on the beach. The boat was twice the size of the small vessel that had carried them to the Island of Arran. Megan glanced at the black, boiling waves and shuddered. A craft twice this size would still not be big enough to suit her.

  The thought of what they were about to undertake sent terror rushing through her veins.

  As she was helped into the boat, she turned and saw the way Nola clung to Kieran before bidding him a safe journey. The man was a scoundrel. He was flirting shamelessly with the captain’s daughter. And enjoying every moment in her company.

  She sank down against the sturdy planks that lined the vessel and closed her eyes against the lurching of her stomach. She had never felt so miserable in her life. It was merely the seasickness, she told herself firmly. It was not because of this hateful man and the strange feelings he aroused in her.

  A flash of lightning revealed a score of men running along the rocky shore toward their boat. Megan glanced toward Kieran and knew, by the hard set of his jaw, that he had seen them, as well. He shouted to Colin and the captain, and the three men braced their weight against the hull of the boat. It scraped along the sandy bottom, then caught a wave and began to float. As the three managed to scramble aboard a series of waves carried the boat far out into the channel.

  Megan peered through the darkness but could not make out the figures on shore.

  What would Nola say when she discovered that the Queen’s emissaries were escaped criminals, wanted by the executioner? A shudder passed through her. Worse, what would the English soldiers do? Would they finally give up their quest? Or would
they follow across the water to Kieran’s land?

  Megan felt the boat catch a giant wave and skim along the crest. Suddenly the boat dropped, falling, falling, until it was caught by another wave and lifted high. She fell to her knees in a fit of weakness, then crawled to the forward section of the boat where a small, makeshift shelter offered some protection from the storm. Under it Megan huddled, wrapped in a warm sheepskin. Each time the boat rode another wave, Megan faced another bout of sickness. Each time she managed to swallow it down, determined to fight this terrible feeling. She would not give in. She would be as strong in this fearsome battle as she was in those battles fought upon the field of honor.

  When they had been at sea no more than an hour, the storm broke upon them with all its fury. Thunder crashed with deafening force. Lightning danced across the waves, blinding them with its intensity. The wind and waves tossed the boat around as though it were a leaf. Megan huddled in a corner. Terror gripped her. The sickness rolled over her, wave after wave, until she threw off the sheepskin, got to her feet and rushed to the side of the boat to retch.

  “Nay, Megan.” Alarmed, Kieran dropped his oar and started toward her. But his words were whipped away by the force of the wind.

  As he raced the length of the boat, he saw her lean over the side. At that moment a wave crashed across the prow of the boat and swept her overboard.

  The captain and Colin, having seen what happened, raced toward the railing.

  “A rope,” Kieran shouted above the wind. “I must have a rope.”

  The captain struggled with a coil of rope until one end was free.

  Quickly tying it around his waist, Kieran braced himself for a moment against the wind, then plunged into the frigid waters.

  Megan felt herself being dragged down beneath the icy water. For long moments, as she struggled against the angry waves, she felt as though she was suffocating. Her burning lungs ached for a breath of air. Struggling against the force of the water, she moved her arms and legs in a frantic scramble. When at last she broke the surface, she took in a long, deep breath. But before she could take another, a wave rolled over her. It was impossible to catch her breath. The more she struggled against the walls of water, the more her lungs demanded air. A sense of panic seized her. Soon she would be too exhausted to struggle.

  A crash of thunder was followed by a flash of lightning that danced across the water. Megan saw the huge black waves rolling toward her and braced herself. Tons of water poured over her, slamming her down so hard she felt the rough scratch of sand at the bottom of the channel. With all her might she struggled upward, toward the air that her lungs craved.

  As she surfaced she heard a man’s cry and felt strong hands reach for her.

  “God in heaven. Megan, I thought I had lost you.”

  “Kieran.” She coughed and choked as she struggled to suck air into her starving lungs. “Is that you, Kieran?”

  “Aye. Do not speak.” He dragged her close and wrapped her in his arms.

  Safe. The first thought that flew into her mind was that she was safe now as long as Kieran held her. But as the storm-tossed waves continued to swamp them, her relief turned to despair.

  “You should not have come after me. Now we will both be lost.”

  “I have no intention of giving up when the goal is this near. Can you hold tightly to me, Megan?”

  “Aye.”

  “Then hold on, and no matter what, do not let go.”

  At his command, she wrapped her arms around his waist and clung to him. Kieran strained against the rope, slowly, painfully pulling until they were drawn close to the boat.

  Megan saw the effort it cost Kieran to struggle against the forces of nature. But though his muscles strained until his face was contorted in pain, he continued to pull against the rope.

  “We have you, Kieran. We can pull you in.”

  From across the waves came Colin’s voice. Megan felt a tremor of fear as another flash of lightning illuminated the two men in the boat. They were still so far away. But both men were bent to the task of reeling in the rope that was their only line to the two in the water.

  Kieran felt Megan’s hands begin to slip as a giant wave washed over them. His voice was a rough command.

  “Hold on to me, Megan. A little while longer, lass, and we will be safe.”

  “Aye.” Rain pelted her face, blinding her. And as they inched their way toward the boat, she clung to him, grateful for his quiet strength.

  When they reached the side of the boat, Kieran handed her up to the men who reached for her. When Kieran was safely aboard as well, the captain shouted to Colin, “Man the oars, lad, while I handle the tiller. Else we will find ourselves swamped.”

  Colin and the captain struggled to keep the boat on course.

  Beneath the shelter in the prow of the boat, Megan and Kieran lay, taking in deep drafts of air. When their breathing had returned to normal, they huddled together beneath the sheepskin until the trembling subsided.

  The storm continued to thunder and rage, but for a few brief moments they forgot about everything except each other.

  “That was a foolish thing you did.” Kieran’s voice was rough with emotion. “I feared you were lost to us forever.”

  “Would that matter, my lord?” Megan’s throat was raw as she tried to speak. Tears sprang unbidden to her eyes. “Your journey would be easier without another to worry about.”

  “Aye.” Beside her, Kieran lay very still, his arms wrapped possessively around her. “It seems I spend far too much time worrying about you, lass. And thinking about you.”

  He drew her fractionally closer and brought his lips to a tangle of hair at her temple. “I am not a man given to worry or fear. But something about you terrifies me, Megan. You are too bold, too brave, too headstrong. And though I know you are capable of taking care of yourself, I have this perplexing desire to watch over you.”

  As he spoke, his fingers moved along her spine. She trembled, aware of him as she had never before been aware of a man.

  “You should not have come after me.” She had no idea why she was suddenly crying.

  He put his arms around her and drew her close. “And why is that?”

  “Because you nearly gave up your life, as well.”

  His voice, low and tender, was warmed with a smile.

  “Would that matter to you, lass?”

  “Aye.” The tears were stronger now, bringing with them a rush of shame that he should see this weakness in her.

  “Oh, Megan. What am I to do with you?” With a sigh he drew her firmly into the circle of his arms. While she wept he ran soft kisses across her temple to her eyelids. He tasted the salt of her tears and moved his lips lower, to brush her cheek and the tip of her nose. As his mouth moved lower still, he found her lips, eager and hungry for his.

  His mouth moved over hers, lightly at first, then more firmly as the hunger grew. This was dangerous, he realized. This mysterious woman, with no name, no past, was not like any other woman he had ever known. She was soft and vulnerable. But beneath the vulnerability lay strength. This was not a village maiden who would teasingly offer her lips to a man. This woman was as reluctant as he to give in to the feelings that surged between them.

  Megan held herself stiffly, fighting the feelings that poured through her, heating her blood, her flesh. Strange new sensations pulsed through her veins and curled deep inside her.

  That first kiss they had shared, so brief, so shocking, had not prepared her for this. This time the feelings lingered and grew until they threatened to take over her very will. God in heaven. What was happening to her? How was it that this man’s simple touch held such power? She gave a little sigh of pleasure and savored the dark, dangerous taste of him.

  In some corner of his mind Kieran knew that he must end this. But not now. Not yet. As his mouth moved over hers, he forgot everything except the woman in his arms. His hands skimmed beneath her wet garments to seek her soft flesh. For a moment she st
iffened. But slowly, gradually, as she began to strain against him, he heard her little sigh of pleasure, and he was lost. She breathed his name against his lips, and he felt his heart explode.

  His kiss was no longer gentle as, driven by a desperate need, he kissed her with a savageness that left her stunned.

  A part of Megan’s mind warned her to beware of what lay ahead. But as Kieran’s lips and hands continued their arousal, she could no longer think.

  He lifted his head, his breathing unsteady. The need for this woman still shuddered through him, leaving his hands trembling.

  Awkwardly Megan sat up, adjusting her wet clothing. She was grateful for the darkness that hid her from his view. Her cheeks, she knew, were flushed, her hands unsteady.

  For no reason, tears filled her eyes.

  Tenderly, Kieran touched a finger to her cheek. “More tears?”

  He leaned on one elbow and studied her. She was crying uncontrollably. Great terrible sobs were wrenched from her. “What is it, Megan? What troubles you now?”

  “You do not know the dark thoughts that I have been thinking.” She struggled to stem the flow of tears and wound up crying harder. “If you did, you would never have risked your life to rescue me.”

  This strange lass sorely tried his patience. With a sigh, he said, “You make no sense, Megan.”

  Her voice rose. Her tears mingled with the rain that streaked her face. “You asked what troubles me? You. You trouble me, Kieran O’Mara.” She turned away from him, mortified that he should see her cry like this. “You deliberately left your own brother and me out in the storm while you sat in the warmth of the inn pursuing the captain’s daughter.”

  A smile touched the corner of his lips. “Is that what all this is about?” The smile became a deep rumble of roguish laughter. “I must remember that I owe a great debt to the captain’s daughter.” His eyes gleamed with warmth. “You are jealous of Nola.”

  “Jealous!” She pushed against him. Forgotten now were those precious kisses stolen only moments ago. Forgotten, too, was the ordeal of the ocean and her seasickness. Now there was only this terrible black rage building inside her. “I am not jealous of a tavern wench. Or of you, Kieran O’Mara. I am angry. Angry that I—” she felt her cheeks redden and forced herself to go on “—permitted a man like you to…take liberties with me.”